Mockingjay: Love and Fear
by Cassandra147
Summary: All I wanted to do was save my sister. I never intended to start a rebellion.
1. The Reaping

All I wanted to do was save my sister.

I never intended to start a rebellion.

The way they tell the story now - they paint me a hero. As if I'd woken up one day and decided to bring down the Capitol.

I didn't.

I just wanted to save my sister.

…

My mother was Reaped at fifteen. Blind, small, untrained - everyone bet she'd be the first to die.

And she might have been.

Except the Arena, that year, was underground. A dark labyrinth of shifting passageways, sudden rockfalls, and pits that opened beneath your feet.

In the dark, the other Tributes stumbled, fear dogging their steps. My mother didn't. Her senses honed keen, she evaded them, her smallness an advantage. She waited them out as their torches and flashlights dimmed. They killed each other - or fell prey to rockslides and tunnel collapses.

Until only three remained. Bouncing her voice off the walls, my mother lured the remaining two - Careers - into a cavern filled with ignitable gas, odorless but not quite tasteless to her tongue, and goaded them into lighting one final match.

She had an escape route ready. They didn't.

A blind Victor.

The Capitol adored her. Some more than others. Some willing to pay...and my mother still had her mother and father and her friends to protect.

I never knew my father. I never wanted to know him.

There are days when my mother couldn't stand for me to be near her.

I can't blame her.

Su, my baby sister, Su was her treasure and solace and pride. When the nightmares woke her, she would cradle Su in her arms and she would be okay. Su could make her smile, even laugh, brighten her face when Su called her "Mama" or reached for her hand.

I loved Su too. I was the one who brushed her hair, sewed up the tears in her dresses, and cooked her breakfast. She loved pretty things - a flower, a ribbon, a china ballerina. She loved to spin and twirl and skip. Not a bad fighter either, she socked a boy in the balls who tried to lift up her skirts so hard he couldn't do anything but whimper for half an hour. I taught her to do that, in case I wasn't around to protect her. I did the hard chores - chopping wood, gutting chickens, scrubbing the floors until my knees ached - so she didn't have to. I had her dust or make the beds or fetch a loaf of bread instead.

Still, she was golden. I wasn't, and I knew it.

She was my sister.

Twelve years old. _Twelve years old_.

A slip of paper: Suyin Beifong.

I just wanted to save my sister. Maybe Mother too; she would have withered without Su's sunlight. My death? She'd grieve and accept and maybe, maybe, deep down, there would be a measure of relief.

"I volunteer!"

It didn't feel real at first. Not when the Peacekeepers surrounded me and marched me to the platform. Not when I climbed those steps to stand before all of District Twelve. Not when Su screamed for me.

Not until the second name was read.

Tenzin.

My best friend. Seventeen. His last Reaping. Almost safe.

Youngest of three, there was no one to volunteer for him.

His older brother, Bumi, he taught me to hunt. Showed me the breaks in the fences. Crafted my first bow.

Kya, his older sister, she had the loveliest voice in the whole District. She'd sing to the mockingjays as she gathered herbs and plants in the woods for food and medicines.

His mother, Katara who never turned me away when I wasn't welcome at home. She could stitch a wound one minute with the tenderest of care and shout down the loudest miners the next.

Aang, his father, the only teacher in the District. I'd seen him stroll between Peacekeepers and their targets, seen him smile and joke and they'd smile back and no one would get punished that day. Always had a smile for me too.

Tenzin was supposed to his father's successor. Quiet, devouring any book that chanced his way, polite, tidy - he had no place in the mines.

I can't remember a time when I didn't see him two or three times a day. We played hopscotch together, swam in the quarry lake together, even snuck through the fence and picked berries together.

Tenzin.

It was real then.


	2. The Goodbye

Aang talked the Peacekeepers into letting us say goodbye together.

There were tears, but they were quiet tears. No one cried.

Those of us in District 12, we learned how not to cry.

I remember the creak of Bumi's leather jacket - he refused to dress up for the Reaping - as he hugged me. He'd washed as best he could, yet traces of grime from the mines lingered in the crevices of his nails and ears.

" Don't grip the bow," he reminded me, voice hoarse. "Just draw and let it fly."

"I will."

He cupped my cheek, rough calluses on his hands.

Kya squeezed me like a boa constrictor I'd once seen in tired faded video. She smelled of aloe; she must have been mixing a batch of salves before the Reaping.

"Sweetheart…" was all she could say. Her fingers shook as she drew my braid over my shoulder, the braid she'd plaited this morning. I'd refused a ribbon then, choosing a strip of leather instead. Kya undid one of her own braids; she took the blue ribbon from it and tied around the end of mine.

Katara rested my head against her shoulder.

"Su -"

"We'll take care of her, I promise," she whispered. "And Toph too."

"Thank you," I whispered back. "I'll - I'll watch out for Tenzin. I will - try -"

"I know you will," she said. I watched her throat, watched her swallow a sob. "I love you, Lin."

I hugged her tighter in reply. I hoped she heard the words I didn't know how to say.

When Aang held me, I allowed a few tears to soak into his shirt. It smelled of chalk, had a streak of it on the underside of one arm. My earliest memory was of that scent, of curling up against him as he helped me sound out words.

"Whatever happens - whatever happens, Lin - I want you to remember this: you are an incredibly good person and we love you." He rubbed my back until I nodded and stepped back. If I hadn't, I would have broken down completely and Su was waiting.

My sister didn't ask why I had volunteered.

Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck and clung to me for ten minutes that passed like ten seconds.

"It's time," announced a Peacekeeper, opening the door.

"One more minute," demanded Katara, her hand clenched on Tenzin's arm. The door closed again.

"Su, listen to me." I unwrapped her arms from my neck. I framed her face with my hands. "Katara and Aang are going to take care of you. I want you to be good for them okay?"

"Okay."

"What I did, don't you ever blame yourself. You're my sister and I want you to grow up just as strong and beautiful and smart as I know you can be." I straightened the collar of her dress. "I - I - I -"

My throat locked.

"Love me?" Su gripped my hands. "I love you too."

I kissed her forehead before starting to pull away.

"Wait." Fumbling a bit, she undid the clasp of the brooch pinned above her heart.

"No, Su, I gave that to you," I protested as she offered it to me.

"Please, Lin…for luck."

It was an old thing, a trinket I'd seen in the market shed. I'd traded a rabbit for it, pinned it on Su's dress this morning, telling her not to be scared, that her name was only in once, that they wouldn't pick her.

A mockingjay in a circle. Not gold, but painted to look like gold.

Su placed it in my palm. She closed my fingers around it.

"For luck," she repeated, words quivering while tears slipped from her eyes. I wiped them away.

"For luck."

"Time to go!" called the Peacekeeper. I hadn't even registered the door opening. There were more than one this round. I didn't need to be told I could either walk out of the room right now or be dragged out.

I chose to walk.

I gave Su a final one-armed hug and a final kiss on her hair, and I walked out with my head held high.

Behind me, I heard Tenzin murmur "Goodbye," heard the stutter of footsteps - whose I didn't know - as someone instinctively tried to follow. Someone else must have pulled them back.

The door didn't bang shut.

It just closed. Quietly.

The Peacekeepers formed a square around us.

They marched us out the rear of the Justice Building.

Robin's egg blue. Blue so clear and striking you almost disbelieved your eyes.

"It's a lovely day," Tenzin said. He was looking up too.

"Yeah. It is."

When I lowered my head, I saw the train, Twelve's escort Joo Dee - and my mother.


	3. Ghost

My mother accompanied us to the Capitol.

Of course she did.

District 12 had no other Victors. The one before Mother had died before my first Reaping. There had been none since Mother.

Districts 1 and 2, they trained children from birth to be their Victors. They won a lot. The other Districts, they start learning trades and skills early which could help in the Games.

Not District 12. Not that the Capitol would have seen anything wrong in sending children into the mines but that our population needed to grow. In the mines, death can be quick or slow but it is inevitable. Black lungs can't breathe. Send a child down; they'll die before their breeding days are over. Wait until they're older, you gain a more few years of breeding before they choke.

We were poor in all ways. In food, in fuel, in education.

For twenty-six years, every Tribute from District 12 had died in the Arena.

For twenty-six years, a slip of paper was their warrant of execution.

Sometimes...sometimes one of their family would blame Mother.

As if it was her fault her blindness crippled her ability to train and mentor our Tributes. As if it were her fault she couldn't judge if an outfit was just right to get a certain reaction. As if it was her fault she couldn't watch the screens on which the Games were projected, could only listen, and so couldn't take appropriate action as well as those with sight.

Mother never retaliated. She would stand like a statue while they screamed and flailed their fists against her. She would stand there until they collapsed, keening, and would then walk away.

She never told them she was sorry. Or that it wasn't her fault.

It was needless and useless to say either.

After the Games, those were the darkest times. I'd wake to yells or sobs or both, but know better than to try to comfort her. Not even Su could reach her, she'd shy away from any touch and disappear for hours. Su would cling to me, especially when she was little and couldn't understand why Mama went away.

Fifty-two Tributes.

Fifty-two children who hoped that, somehow, Mother could help save them.

Fifty-two children who had spent almost their last days with her.

Fifty-two children whose coffins she'd escorted home.

Me and Tenzin would be fifty-three and fifty-four, or fifty-four and fifty-three.

I didn't harbor any illusions about that.

Nor did she.

The first time my mother said "I love you" to me was in the Justice Building right as we boarded the train to the Capitol.

Words I'd craved for years, words I'd dreamed about hearing from her lips, words she'd given to Su but never to me.

She whispered it, not looking at me, one foot already on the steps into the train. I was behind her.

"I love you."

"Mom?"

"Don't call me that!"

I realized she'd been speaking to a ghost.

My ghost.


	4. Ash

There was food everywhere.

Fluffy pastries on the sideboards. Miniature desserts on a tiered tray. Apples, oranges, grapes overflowing out of silver bowls.

We could have gorged ourselves until we puked and still not eaten all the food in sight.

Su and I, we'd been lucky. My mother's income as a Victor ensured we never went truly hungry. I'd never had to take tesserae, putting in my name an extra time for the pittance which was a year's allowance of grain and oil for one person.

That didn't mean our bellies didn't growl in the lean winters. I learned to hunt and forage to supplement our food supplies.

Bumi had, multiple times for multiple family members. By his last Reaping, twenty slips of paper bore his name. After him, Kya took it two years for each of her family, adding ten slips with her name. Even Tenzin, over his siblings' and parents' protests, had taken it last year: five slips.

I'd tried to prevent it. Once Bumi had gone into the mines, I took charge of hunting for both our families. Whenever we could, Tenzin and I would dare the fence and go into the woods. We'd set traps, stalk whatever prey to be had, and gather foodstuffs. Tenzin blanched at the thought of killing, so I handled that end of the business, but he'd help me carry our game back.

We had been lucky.

Some families, every child of age took tesserae every year for every family member.

Sometimes it still wasn't enough. People still starved.

And they put this food out of as if didn't matter.

As if it could rot on it's silver platters and no one would care.

As if there weren't children just outside who risked their lives so their loved ones wouldn't starve.

My fists clenched.

Tenzin caught the movement and rested his hand on my back.

Biting my tongue, I kept my arms lowered and didn't overturn the tables.

" - and by tomorrow, we'll be in the Capitol, isn't that so exciting?" babbled Joo Dee, her pinks-streaked curls bouncing as she gestured. I wanted to punch the smile off her face.

My mother grunted before feeling her way through the car.

"Mom?" I called.

Ignoring me, she continued into the next one. A door slammed.

Joo Dee's smile didn't falter.

"You'll be a hit in the Capitol," she enthused, reaching towards me with glittery nails that seemed more like claws. I evaded her and slipped round the nearest sofa to get it between me and her. Tenzin came with me, his posture stiff.

"The daughter of a Victor, volunteering! Ah, they'll _love _it!"

"Up until the point where I die a bloody death," I retorted. Joo Dee froze, smile in place and hands in the air. "Oh wait, I forgot, they'll like that too. The bloodier the better, right?"

"Lin," Tenzin hissed in my ear.

The smile flickered; it returned false.

"Well, I ah, I'll just freshen up. All the excitement, you know, I -"

She fled. I watched the flounces on her skirt disappear with vicious pleasure.

"You shouldn't have done that," Tenzin said.

"Why not?" I demanded. "Should I play along? Act as if she isn't taking us to the slaughter?"

"We need her."

"She's useless, Tenzin." I crossed my arms. "You know that. She can't keep a schedule straight, she makes our Tributes look like country bumpkins, she doesn't have brains of a snail - if she were any good, she wouldn't be here."

Tenzin frowned, knowing I was right.

"She's what we have."

He was right too.

He pleaded, "Try to be nice, Lin, please." He gripped my shoulders. "Please."

Anger surged, but his fear made me force it down. "All right. I'll try. I really will."

"Thank you."

…

The food tasted like ash.

But at dinner, when Tenzin pushed his plate aside after only three forkfuls, I pushed it back.

"If you faint, you're dead and no use to me," I snapped. "We're supposed to watch out for each other."

It wasn't nice.

Nice wouldn't keep us alive.

We both finished our meals.


	5. On the Train

Mother didn't emerge from her bunk until the morning.

I'd tried knocking on her door, a plate in my hand, but had gotten no response. I'd left the food on the floor.

Joo Dee had gone to bed early, blithering about beauty sleep and an exciting day tomorrow.

Tenzin and I had sat for a long time in the darkness, side by side, not talking. The train had whooshed along, ever-shifting shadows rushing past the windows. A sort of limbo.

The clock had ticked past two before we forced ourselves to bed. It was another hour before exhaustion closed my eyes against my will.

I woke late, sun bright and turning dust motes to gold. For the briefest of moments, I forgot what had come yesterday and marveled at the softness of my blankets and mattress. My fingers caressed royal blue fabric, soft as a baby's hair, and the mattress cradled my body like a cloud.

Then I remembered.

I scrambled from the bed.

Last night, I'd found a nightdress on the bed. Having no other choice, I'd worn it. Now, I tore it off and looked for my Reaping dress. I'd draped it over a chair, thinking to wear it again.

It was gone. In it's place was a similar one of much finer cloth, complete with underthings.

I gritted my teeth.

They couldn't even leave me my own clothes. The only reason I still had Kya's ribbon and Su's pin was that I'd gone to sleep clutching them.

I showered, dressed although my skin crawled, and plaited my hair. I pinned the Mockingjay over my heart and threaded the ribbon into my hair.

When I walked into the main car, I saw Tenzin had suffered the same fate. He attempted to smile but failed.

Next to him at the table, Joo Dee assaulted my senses decked in filmy layers of orange and lime-green. She had little flagpoles stuck in her hair, Panem emblem fluttering with every move.

Tenzin caught my eye. He mouthed, "Be nice."

I glared at him, yet clamped my lips shut and resolved only to open them for food.

It was excruciatingly hard.

Joo Dee gushed about the sights we could expect, about the people who were eagerly awaiting our arrival, about how marvelous and amazing the Capitol was - and I kept eating so I could keep my mouth full and also keep my promise to Tenzin.

" - and you'll have every luxury you can imagine, right at your fingertips. You'll be adored by -"

"Shut up."

I jerked, and yanked my head around.

My mother navigated the car towards us, one hand outstretched to warn her of obstacles. She groped for the empty chair between me and Joo Dee.

"Toph, good morning," chirped Joo Dee. "How did you sleep? Isn't it wonderful to be going back to -"

Silverware clattered as my mother fumbled for a knife.

It was dull, in case a Tribute tried to end their life before their death could be entertainment for the masses.

That didn't deter Mother from brandishing it in Joo Dee's face. Whether from blindness or intention, she got close enough that Joo Dee leaned far backwards to avoid it.

"Say one more word," Mother pronounced, "and I will shove this knife through your eye and into your brain. "

White as flour, Joo Dee looked terrified to breathe, let alone speak. Her flags stilled.

I couldn't help it; I laughed.

Tenzin covered his face.

Mother kept her head turned towards Joo Dee, her off-center clouded gaze disturbing Joo Dee further. She started to twitch.

Meanwhile, I filled a plate and set it in front of her.

"Eggs at three, toast at six, sausage at nine," I said. I poured juice. "Glass at one."

She nodded and her free hand found a fork. Without moving her head, she began to eat. Chewing with her mouth open.

Joo Dee shoved her chair back and scurried away.

"Might not have killed her," Mother remarked. "I'm not sure she has brains. Would've enjoyed trying though."

"You're not serious?" asked Tenzin, looking queasy.

Mother snorted. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Pale, he looked to me; I shrugged and, under the table, pressed my leg against his.

He'd never seen this side of Toph Beifong.

It was the side born in the crucible of the Arena. The side which had enabled her to kill people.

I had.

Most of the time, she kept it suppressed.

I'd triggered it on occasion, surprising her after a bad nightmare or when her memories ensnared her. She always came to before she really hurt me, but I usually ended up nursing bruises.

Before, that side had scared me the way it scared Tenzin now.

For me, it was now a good thing.

A thing, in fact, that I needed to learn and learn fast.

We continued eating in silence. Tenzin finished first and stood.

"I'm going to…" He looked down, struggling, "...to write some letters. If…"

"Give'em to me," interrupted Mother. "I'll see that they get there."

"Thank you," Tenzin replied, barely above a whisper. He left for his berth.

Mother waited until we heard his door shut.

"You might win."

"What?"

She traced the blunt edge of the knife. "Drop him, and you've got a chance."

My fork clattered on the plate.

"Drop - you - what -"

"He's dead weight. He doesn't have what it takes to survive in the Arena. You might. But if you insist upon sticking with him -"

"I'm not - I wouldn't - how can you suggest that I -" I waved in direction of the berths. "He's my _friend_. And if I, how could I face -"

"They'd understand. This isn't some jaunt in the woods, Lin!" Her fists banged on the table. "There's only one Victor. What's the point of wasting effort trying to save someone who doesn't have a chance and who would have to die anyway for you to survive?"

"What's the point - the point is -" I stammered, leaping to my feet. "I won't do it. I won't let them - he is my _friend_ and if I don't - how could I live with myself if I abandoned him? What kind of person - we're in this together!"

"Even if you die because of it?" she demanded.

I thought about it. Thought about coming home and seeing Su again, seeing Bumi and Kya and Katara and Aang again, thought about visiting a fresh headstone in the Tributes' graveyard, thought about doing all that while knowing I didn't try to save him.

Bile flooded my mouth. If that came to pass, then I would be dead regardless of if my heart continued to beat. I wouldn't be me anymore. The person I was would never leave Tenzin to die, would never sacrifice a friend for her own advantage.

"Yes." The word came out quiet. Somewhere deep inside me, the word resounded, echoing as if in a vast cavern. My resolve hardened. "We're in this together. No matter what."

My mother slumped.

"I thought you'd say that," she murmured raggedly.

She held out her hand and I took it.

Sandwiching mine between hers, she squeezed. "You...I...we'll give them a good fight, okay?"

"Okay."


	6. Arrival

"We're here!" exclaimed Joo Dee.

People screamed outside the train, a churning whirlpool of colors that made me dizzy. Their faces - dyed and decorated until they didn't look human. I saw wings on one person, feathers for eyebrows on another, foot-tall furred shoes on another, blazing yellow clothes so tight I could see the woman's nipples.

"You want them to like you," my mother told us, standing to my left. Tenzin was on my right. "So look happy."

Joo Dee opened her mouth, glanced at Toph, and thought better of it.

The doors whizzed open.

Any attempt at false happiness was squashed under the brunt of experiencing a Capitol crowd for the first time.

If we look overwhelmed in the videos, it's because we were three sane people tossed into a sea of lunatics.

Only barely did I register the Avox, in plain grey, approach my mother. I shook my head at him.

With my elbow, I bumped my mother's arm. She wrapped her hand around my forearm.

At home, my mother had the house and surrounding town memorized. She refused to rely on a cane or anyone to guide her. Here, she had no choice but to permit the help.

We walked to the waiting car, me fighting every instinct I had which were shouting at me to fight or flee these creatures surrounding us. If I'd been alone, I wouldn't have been able to endure it.

We slid into the car as fast as we could.

Reaching the Tribute Center, a cage of glass and steel, the car entered via a short tunnel. We exited the car and went straight to an elevator.

"You're on the top floor," announced Joo Dee, obviously bolstered by being on her home turf. She tittered and smiled. "It has the _best _views."

"Knife. Eye. Brain."

Joo Dee shut up again.

The doors opened on a magnificent apartment, decked in lush fabrics and gleaming woods. Flowers, what kinds I didn't know but doubtlessly expensive, filled vases on every flat surface.

A woman lounged on a sofa.

Slowly, she tilted her head as our little group disembarked. Her relaxed posture, her languid movements, her straight mouth, all suggested boredom.

Except her eyes betrayed her.

So did her clothes. In the Districts, the woman's scarlet and black attire would be noticeable, memorable, distinctive. In the Capitol, it was just bright enough, just loud enough, to blend into the crowd. Anything plainer would be distinctive because of its plainness; anything flashier might be remembered.

Camouflage.

I knew a predator when I saw one.

Sighing, the woman eased herself to her feet.

To Joo Dee, she ordered, "You've been reassigned."

"Who are you?" demanded Toph.

"What?" blurted Joo Dee at the same time. "But I'm -"

A shift of the woman's shoulders, a tiny straightening, stopped her. She gulped and started backing towards the elevator. "Yes, ma'am."

It dinged as she pushed the button for down. The doors hissed closed.

"I'm your new escort. The name is Mai."

She turned with a careless roll of her shoulders and ambled further into the room. A lazy wave and a drawled, "Welcome to the Capitol."

"This is bad," I muttered.

"Maybe not," Tenzin replied softly as we moved forwards. "She could be better than Joo Dee."

"She's not an escort," Mother said. "And I think I've hear her voice before...somewhere."

"I don't like this. Joo Dee didn't put up a protest, she just left on command. And if this Mai's not an escort, what is she doing playing one? For District 12?"

Neither of them had an answer.


	7. The Parade

The ring of the mockingjay pin bit into my palm. The blue of Kya's ribbon peaked from beneath my fingers.

I hadn't trusted my prep team to give them back if I had let them out of my grasp.

Skin stinging from having my hair yanked out, cold despite the room's moderate temperature and plush robe, I waited for my stylist. The person who was going to dress me in some farce of a costume for the opening ceremonies this evening.

Last year, our Tributes had been dressed as lanterns. Lanterns. With stupid lights affixed to their brows and sparkly, glittery fabric that probably cost a year's wages but looked cheaper than shit.

I hated the Parade of Tributes almost as much as I hated the Arena.

When I hunted, I killed quick and clean.

The Capitol played with its prey before it ate it.

I wasn't going to make it easy for them. I'd already reduced my prep team to silence with remarks about being undertaker's assistants.

The door opened.

"Miss Beifong?"

I'd expected a flouncing peacock. Twelve had been subjected to a series of them as no one wanted to dress the District with the longest losing streak.

Cinna was an elegant crane, in dark chocolate with flecks of gold by his eyes. He wore a simple shirt of deep plum and black pants.

He threw me.

"I'm Cinna, your stylist," he said, extending a hand. "It's an honor to meet you."

The funny thing was, I believed he meant it. I shook his hand.

"I'm sorry if the prep team made you uncomfortable," he offered. "They mean well, but they can be -"

"Idiotic?" I supplied, finding my defiance again. They'd been more concerned with my never-shaved legs than with how short my life now was.

He didn't argue.

"So what are you going to shove me into? Overalls? A shovel? How ridiculous am I going to look?"

"No," Cinna said firmly, looking me in the eye. None of my prep team had been able to do that. "I promise you, Miss Beifong, you will not look ridiculous."

He paused for a moment, taking a breath, before continuing. "Did you know I asked for this assignment?"

"What? Why?"

"Because of you." His voice was solemn and earnest. "Because you deserve better than to be made a mockery of. You deserve respect - and you deserve to be remembered."

"There's a fire in you, Miss Beifong. I saw it when you volunteered for your sister and I can see it in you now. I know what you said to your prep team, and to your previous escort, and to me. I think you want to be remembered - as a full human being, as yourself, rather than yet another faceless Tribute."

I couldn't speak.

He was right. He was right, and had somehow articulated what I hadn't been able to consciously understand.

A folio had been tucked underneath his arm. He opened it and held it out to me.

"Let me help you make them remember you."

Black as coal, a simple jumpsuit stood on the page. Simple, except for a flowing cape with peaked collar, also done in black. I touched the scrap of fabric attached to the page; it reflected the light as coal did in flashes instead of sparkles.

"This isn't me," I muttered. "You must've - for someone else - you couldn't have -"

"I drew this last night. I asked to be your stylist this morning." Cinna laid his hand over mine where it still rested on the fabric. "Between you and me, we'll make you unforgettable. Will you allow me to do this for you?"

"Don't have much choice," I responded on automatic. Then, I nodded and said, "I will."

"Thank you." He stepped back, laying the folio on a nearby table. "We already had your measurements and the suit is ready."

He pointed to a screened area at the rear of the room. "Would you prefer if I left the room? Or had a member of the prep team come back? You should be able to get into it by yourself but you might have trouble reaching a few of the fastenings -"

"No. You can stay. I don't want - them."

Strange as it sounds, I felt better about Cinna being there while I changed and potentially touching me than any of the all female prep team.

I slipped behind the screen. Cinna faced the opposite direction, even though the screen was completely opaque.

Already wearing the proper undergarments, I removed the jumpsuit from its hanger. From its appearance, I almost expected the harshness of coal, but instead it whispered against my skin.

I donned it without looking in the mirror. It fit and had a pleasant weight, heavy enough to reassure me it wasn't flimsy or delicate. The boots I liked, solid and black and laced to my knees.

The zipper running along my side I managed fine, but I couldn't quite manage to hook the cape on right.

I stepped out from behind the screen, carrying the cloak in one hand with my pin and ribbon in the other.

Cinna gave me a little sad yet proud smile. More real than any smile I'd seen since coming to the Capitol.

"Unforgettable." He came towards me. "May I?"

I turned and he fastened the cape.

"Makeup now?" he asked, gesturing to a table populated with a plethora of makeup.

I shrugged and sat on the bed, brushing the cloak to one side.

"You'll look like you," Cinna vowed. He selected a very few items from the table, laying them beside me. "We want them to be able to recognize you, now and in the Arena."

He was very gentle as he applied the liquids and powders and goo to my face.

When he finished, he asked, "Can you do your braid?"

"My braid? The same one?"

"Please." Cinna handed me a tie. I did as he requested, fingers flying in a long-memorized pattern. To do it, I had to drop the pin and ribbon into my lap.

Cinna took them.

Dropping the undone braid, I lunged at him. I shouted, "No, you -"

Catching me, he pushed the pin into my jumpsuit, just below my left collarbone, and secured it. I could breathe again.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. The ribbon he quickly tied around my right wrist, pulling the sleeve down to cover it. "I didn't intend - I am truly sorry."

To my embarrassment, tears sprang to my eyes.

Cinna offered me a handkerchief, and made a show of flipping through his sketchbook while I blotted the tears. He fixed my makeup without the slightest hint that he knew why it needed to be fixed. Then he finished my braid, tied it, wrapped it round my head like a crown, and pinned it. Last, he sprayed a fine mist over my hair.

"Would you like to see yourself?" he asked.

"No." I didn't want to see a stranger in the mirror.

"There's one more thing, about the cape." He picked up a small square from the table. "I attached these all over it."

He pressed along one side - and flames flared from it.

"They're barely hot," said Cinna, passing his hand through the flames. "Your dress is fireproof and the spray will protect your hair, just in case."

First quickly, then slowly I felt the flames for myself. They warmed, not burned.

"The controller is below the zipper."

I found it, a button hidden on the ridge of my right hip.

Cinna smiled. "Count to three after you enter and press it."

"Got it."

The loudspeaker cracked, "Tributes, report to the staging area immediately."

"Are you ready?" Cinna asked.

I gave him a look.

"Silly question," he admitted.

"Yeah." I squared my shoulders.

Cinna offered me the crook of his arm, like I was a fine lady.

I took it.

As we exited the room, he said quietly, "Let them see your fire, Miss Beifong. Let them see how bright you burn."

* * *

They claimed it was "pride in our District." "A show of unity."

It wasn't.

In that first parade of human sacrifices - because that's what it was - we held hands because Tenzin's a gentleman and because we were terrified.

Tenzin mounted first the chariot first.

Then he offered me a hand. Wary of tripping over my cape, I accepted the help.

But I couldn't make myself let his hand go.

Neither could he. He gripped hard enough to hurt. I did too.

The chariot lurched into motion.

My bones ground in his hold, his ground in mine.

We counted to three.

Flames ignited from our shoulders.

They were cheering.

"Smile, please," Tenzin whispered out of the corner of his mouth. He remembered Mai's instructions. I turned a little towards him.

His smile sickened me. A puppet painted with a grinning slash of red.

A puppet whose eyes told the truth.

Puppets both of us, destined for the fire.

I faced forwards.

And I smiled.

And we held onto each other.

He was the one who lifted our joined hands. Not me.

They cheered louder.

Our faces flickered on the banners. Wide angle on the chariot, then zoom in on the joined hands, on each face, zoom out again.

They loved it.

"It's really quite wonderful to see such pride, they're saying we may be from District 12 but we're _proud_ of it. We're here - together - and we will not be ignored!" boomed the announcer.

Such pretty lies. Such pretty people.

Cheering those who came to die.

Katara always said the dying should never be left without a hand to hold.

Dying, we held hands.


	8. Training

Tenzin and I spent most of training at the survival skill stations: knot tying and snares, fire starting, shelter making, identifying poisonous and edible plants.

I did my best to ignore the Career Tributes. Districts 1, 2, and 4. Each of them molded into machines with a single purpose of winning the Games. They spared against the trainers with knives and swords and spears, muscles obvious from across the room.

They weren't afraid of showing off. They didn't need to be.

Tenzin and I did.

Against the Careers, we needed the element of surprise.

They mostly ignored us too.

"Be average," Mai had told us, the first morning of training. "Too weak and they'll kill you just because they can. Too strong, and they'll feel they have to kill you. Make them think you're strong enough to need a little effort, but weak enough that you're not a threat and they can kill you once they've dealt with a few other Tributes and secured their resources."

We were average.

Not thin and malnourished like the Tributes from Districts 8 and 10. The boy from 10 had a limp, one foot pointing inwards.

Hunting had kept us fed, and fed on meat which built our muscles. We could spend the whole day hiking in the woods and not tire.

Not young like the thirteen-year-old boy from District 6. Like Rue.

Sixteen and seventeen, almost adult. I was tall for a girl, tall for my age, and Tenzin had grown an inch a month the past year.

But we were nowhere near the Careers' level and they knew it.

So for two days, we avoided any kind of fighting.

Until the Careers began to eye us on the morning of the third.

They eyed us the way a jackal eyed a lame rabbit.

I tugged on Tenzin's arm. "Come on."

A minute later, I'd shoved a slingshot into his hands and picked up the recurved bow I'd been itching to test.

"But Mai said -"

"Average, not helpless," I retorted. I inclined my head in direction of the watching Careers.

After a moment, Tenzin nodded and selected a round ball to tuck into the sling.

Whhooop. Whoooop. Whooop.

Miss.

Whhooop. Whoooop. Whooop.

Miss.

Whhooop. Whoooop. Whooop.

Crash!

I heard gasps. The ceramic target, a round disk the size of my palm, lay shattered on the floor the length of the gymnasium away.

"Again," I muttered.

Whhooop. Whoooop. Whooop.

Crash!

We had snakes in 12. Poisonous ones that had been bred by the Capitol and were more likely to attack than flee if you stumbled across them.

Even Tenzin, who went green if he had to watch me skin something, agreed killing them was okay.

Slingshots were easy to make, easy to conceal, and truthfully, the Peacekeepers didn't care. Bits of rock weren't going to make a dent in their armor.

Tenzin was good with one. Very good. I'd seen him nail a snake between eyes from thirty paces. Killed it instantly.

He stepped aside for me.

I fired nine arrows. None of them hit the bullseye or the first ring.

I wasn't aiming for either.

The first six had gone honestly astray, me getting used to the bow.

The last three, I'd aimed those for two, six, and eleven o'clock on the second ring. The six o'clock I hit in the third ring, the other two I hit dead on target.

Each time, I made sure to screw up my face and grumble. At the end, I threw the bow onto the nearest table as if in disgust.

When I checked, the Careers' expressions had turned considering. They lingered a little longer on Tenzin than me.

Not weak. Not strong. Something in between.

* * *

One by one, we were called to appear before the Gamemakers.

As always, Twelve was last.

The Avox came for Tenzin.

"Impress them," I said.

"You too," he murmured before following the Avox.

My palms sweated.

A good score could mean the difference between life and death.

The Capitol, they used the score as one measure of who might survive. Each Tribute received a number, one to twelve. Too low and the Gamemakers thought you might as well slit your own throat. Twelve was an impossibility, even the Careers averaged a nine or ten.

A good score drew more and better sponsors. Sponsors meant gifts - food, medicine, matches, clothing, even weapons delivered to the Tributes in the Arena.

I don't know how long Tenzin took.

The Avox returned for me.

The Gamemakers were bored. They chattered among themselves, tiny glasses of brilliant colors attached to their hands.

I cleared my throat. Some of them turned.

"Lin Beifong, District Twelve," I announced.

The Head Gamemaker, robes edged in gold, gestured for me to begin.

Then he turned to refill his goblet.

A handful of others kept watching. I heard my mother's name whispered.

I chose a bow, the same recurved style I'd used that morning.

Notch, draw, release. Notch, draw, release. Notch, draw, release.

I hit the bullseye on the third try. This time, I had been aiming for it.

Most still ignored me.

I clenched the bow. My teeth ground.

Maybe they needed something more realistic.

I forced my grip to relax. I picked another target.

Notch, draw, release.

Thwack!

Dead in the dummy's heart.

No reaction.

Thwack! Eye. Thwack! Throat. Thwack! Eye. Thwack! Mouth.

No reaction.

I couldn't stand it.

Those people, up there in their damned purple robes, were more interested in the arrival of a roasted pig than in me. Me who they were going to kill.

I deserved better from them than to be ranked below a roasted pig.

I fit another arrow to the string.

Notch, draw, release.

They screamed.

Juice dripped onto the fine carpet.

My arrow quivered, skewering the apple - the apple from the pig's mouth - into the wall.

I had their attention now.

I curtsied.

Then I caught and held the Head Gamemaker's gaze.

His blue eyes might have been pretty if they hadn't reminded me of a man I'd known in Twelve. A man who'd sold out a fellow miner to eliminate the competition for a plum position.

Gamemaker Tarrlok was cut from the same cloth. Thought he was smarter than he was, smart enough to climb over other people to get what he wanted.

The man in Twelve? He'd died in a mysterious accident. Mines are dangerous places.

"Lin Beifong, District Twelve," I said.

I couldn't hope for a similar accident for Tarrlok.

But at least I'd forced him, for a single moment, to recognize me as something other than a pawn.

…

They paid me back.

An eleven.

A higher score than the Careers.

They made me a target.

* * *

"Fucking damn it!"

Grasping the arm of a chair, I hauled myself upright. I teetered on the heels, checking the skirt of the practice gown for rips.

"Are you planning to use that language in your interview?" Mai asked, cool as you please. Seated on the loveseat, she looked up from her handheld screen.

"No," I snapped.

"Good." She returned her attention the screen.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me?" I demanded.

"If you can't figure out how to walk on your own…"

I sneered at her.

She sighed and tapped the screen thrice. It went dark.

"Fine. Keep walking." She tossed the screen onto the table. "How are you going to play it?"

"Play it?" I started tottering again.

Escorts did decorum and posture and all the niceties of behavior. Mentors did the coaching, at least that's the way it normally worked. Tenzin and I got four hours with each, me with Mai first while he got my mother.

Escorts didn't coach Victors on strategy. Not normally.

"You're too brash to go for shy and demure. You don't have the body or the flair to pull off sexy. You're too old to be a little girl," Mai dismissed options. "Not sly and secretive enough to be mysterious."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Try not to show how much you hate us."

I halted and stared at her.

"Did you think you were hiding it?" she asked idly. "You weren't. Keep walking."

I resumed my trek back and forth in front of the windows.

"You hate us. You have nothing but contempt for the Capitol." Mai smiled, waving a hand to indicated what was beyond the windows. "Out there, you can fool most of them. They can't see beneath your fake smiles. You haven't fooled me."

"Well, what do you expect? Do you want me to chat about how wonderful it is to be here? What an honor it is to be a Victor?"

"No, I don't think you could fool anyone if you did that."

"Then what?"

Mai considered, sunlight flashing off the gold in her otherwise inky eyes.

"Talk about your family," she said at last.

"My family?"

"Stop repeating me. It's boring," Mai ordered. She selected several cherries from a bowl on the table and ate them one at a time.

I continued pacing, irritation humming under my skin.

"Well?" I asked when she finished.

She wiped her hands with a napkin, dabbing at her lips.

"You will be asked about them, you understand that. You're a Victor's daughter and you volunteered for your sister. It'll be the second or third question, after asking you about how you like the Capitol," Mai explained with the air of a teacher talking to a particularly slow student.

"I get it."

Mai raised a single eyebrow. "I don't think you do. That's your play."

I thought it over.

"You're the girl who loves her sister so much you volunteered. Maybe you thought you'd have a better chance of winning than her, but mostly you love her enough to die in her place." Mai had grown focused, her voice calm and clear. "You're the daughter who loves her mother and didn't want her to have to bury her baby girl. You couldn't let her watch your sister die so young."

I slowed, then stopped.

In the window, I saw Su.

Su smiling with a missing tooth. Su snuggling into my side as rain and thunder roared. Su arranging wildflowers in a vase because she thought we needed more color in the house.

Su and Mom playing cat's cradle.

"The best part about it," Mai remarked, "Is it wouldn't be a lie, would it?"

"No."

"There you have it. You haven't tripped in a while either."

I hadn't.

* * *

For the first ten minutes, I fidgeted and Mother glared at nothing.

"Let's go," she declared abruptly, springing to her feet. "Get out of here."

There was only one place we could go - the roof.

She took my elbow and we went up the one level to the rooftop.

Up there, the wind screeched. We found a nook, surrounded by concrete planters filled with bushes shaped like animals.

There was no one else on the roof, the rest of the Tributes busily concocting characters to please the Capitol.

"You could tell them I'm a terrible mom," my mother said suddenly. "Might buy you some sympathy."

I shook my head. "No."

She wasn't a terrible mom. She was just broken. Broken and patched together with a few pieces still missing.

When I had a nightmare, she would wake me up and sit on the end of my bed until I fell asleep again. When I was sick, she would let me have the music player in my room, and would bring me cold compresses if I was feverish and hot ones if I was coughing. When I did something wrong, she might yell but she never raised her hand to me.

In snowstorms, the three of us would drag a mattress in front of the fireplace. We'd pile on blankets and pillows. Mother would buy peppermint sticks and chocolate for Su and me - although she hated spending the Capitol's money - and we would curl into our nest, the three of us together.

The brokenness, that was why she had never before told me she loved me. Why she kept Su close to her and didn't seem to care if I was gone for hours. Why she always took Su's side, no matter whose fault it really was.

Mai said I hated the Capitol.

How could I have done otherwise?

I hated them for what they had done to my mom.

And for what they had taken from me - the mother she might have been.

"I won't do that," I told her. I tore leaves from the bush. "`Sides, you're their beloved Victor. They might take offence."

"Yeah, maybe."

Time passed.

"You could have grown up here. Safe," she blurted, gesticulating wildly. "I could have - if I'd named - my claim against one of them -"

"I know."

I tried to picture it.

"I didn't want you to, I couldn't stand the thought, of you, of my daughter becoming one of them," she confessed. "It was worse than you growing up in Twelve."

I wasn't the only one who hated the Capitol. I pictured being one of them - gaily betting on children's lives - and shuddered.

"It's okay that you didn't," I said in a small voice.

More time passed.

Shredding leaves, I watched the birds that darted across my view and envied them their wings. I imagined one of them flying, flying, flying all the way to Twelve. It perched on the windowsill of Katara and Aang's house; it was close to dinner time there and stew would be simmering on the stove. Su would help set the table, folding the napkins into neat triangles and spacing the plates out just so.

No one would mention the number of plates, or how the table had extra space. How no arms would be bumping like they did when all eight of us crammed around a table built for five, six at most.

Instead, Bumi would tousle Su's hair and Katara would nag her to make sure she finished her share. Aang would talk about negotiating a fix for the leaking roof of the one-room schoolhouse. Kya would tell them that Rizu had picked a name for her baby.

They wouldn't talk about us. Some things, talking doesn't help.

I ached to be that bird on the windowsill.

Not even inside with them, just watching from outside would be enough.

"Lin?"

I started, so did Mother.

"Here," I called, standing to see Tenzin coming towards us.

Afternoon had slipped into evening.

"It's time for dinner," Tenzin informed us.

We returned inside.


End file.
